


Of Jocks and Wetsuits

by TrashMetal



Category: Subterfuge (1996)
Genre: (eventually) - Freeform, Adult Content, Hate Sex, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Jealousy, Love/Hate, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Rivalry, Swearing, Swimming Pools, accidental comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-07-14
Packaged: 2018-06-01 02:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6497551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrashMetal/pseuds/TrashMetal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd always hated each other, but that's not to say they couldn't get it on from time to time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I re-watched "Subterfuge" because I was bored and let's just say I was... err, inspired.  
> This was supposed to be a short fic, but I accidentally got carried away with the backstory, so yeah... The story will hereby be divided into 2 chapters! Aren't you excited?

“We need to talk”, Tencil said, giving Jonathan one of those half-smiles that revealed nothing.  


They were apparently “partners” now, but it just didn't sit right with Jonathan to be working together with that guy, not after years upon years of competition. Nevertheless, he looked up from whatever his brother Alfie was doing on the computer (which he didn't understand anyway) to face Tencil in the doorway.

“Yeah sure”, Jonathan replied, still mildly amused that Tencil wanted his help after all these years. Or, maybe it was like he said; that it wasn't his decision? Either way, it was amusing. 

“In private.” Tencil shot Alfie an annoyed glance before turning on his heel, expecting Jonathan to follow him out the room, which he would, after stretching and standing up from his seat as slowly as possible.

“Now remember, Alfie; if there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask our new friends here, aight?”, he mused as he gave his little brother a hard “pat” on the back, causing the younger to lurch forward from the impact.

“Oh, real funny. But now that you mention it–“, Alfie lifted his gaze from the computer screen to look at Tencil, who was barely able to conceal his impatience. “You think one of your guys could fix me a Slurpee or something? Wait, no– a Mocha latte? Or... both?”

“ _Sure_ ”, Tencil said through clenched teeth before giving Jonathan another forced smile. “Now let's go.”

***

Even though Jonathan started out trying to be friends with Tencil, he'd quickly realized that wasn't an option. No, trying to be friendly with the man you always kept beating in every contest didn't work so well, especially coming from a winner with such an attitude as Jonathan's. Even back then, he gave off a slacker-vibe; as if he'd succeed at anything he did without even trying, and then being surprised when people got mad or jealous at him. Though, since Alfie was the only one to ever actually bring it up, he never took it too seriously. 

He'd long since given up on trying to be nice to Tencil, since the blond made it clear right away that Jonathan's friendly gestures wouldn't be reciprocated. No use wasting your time on those kinda people, he figured. Even still, both of their individual roads through life had sometimes stopped their winding on several occasions; leading the two men back to each other, much to Jonathan's arrogant amusement and Tencil's great disdain.

Jonathan was disappointed in the beginning, sure, since he couldn't recall anyone he met that didn't like him, before Tencil came around and rocked the foundation. Only slightly, though. The scrawny blond teenager who'd kept trying to sabotage Jonathan's equipment, steal things from his locker, “accidentally” trip him onto the bathhouse floor in an effort to have him sprain his ankle, never had Jonathan all that bothered.  
_I understand you're jealous of me, Pierce_ , he'd told him after one such incident. _Some people's physique is just naturally better than others'. Maybe try doing some push-ups?_ Jonathan had patted him on the back before flexing his muscles, to the amazement of the rest of their peers, who had kept hooting and high-fiving Jonathan for the rest of that day. And that was the day, THE day, that Tencil realized he wasn't just annoyed at Jonathan; he _hated_ him with every fibre of his scrawny little being.

Somewhere along the line, though, that blond, scrawny and livid kid had grown up to be a blond, lanky and livid _man_ , suddenly in a position of power, as if to compensate for all those years he was mistreated and never got to realize his full potential as each and every time, Jonathan came and snagged the gold medal from him.  
_That stupid meathead!_ Only good he ever did was leave Tencil the hell alone after a contest instead of rubbing his stupid, undeserved victory in his face. With those huge muscles, how could Jonathan _not_ win? It was basically cheating, and Tencil had even told him that once, when they were alone in the locker-room after another practice session. He'd briskly walked up to Jonathan and started on a tirade about how his unfair advantage ruined it for everyone else, Jonathan had finally turned around to face him (a look on his face that said: _Are we really doing this again?_ ), and for some reason, Tencil's eyes shot downward before he could think to stop it, and his gaze fell upon Jonathan's chiseled pectoral muscles, glistening with a mix of sweat and pool water. Tencil also noted how the droplets of water dribbled down the other man's chest onto his six-packed torso and that he, regrettably, became transfixed by the display before him; Jonathan Slade: alpha male, the perfect picture of beauty in a man. Everything Tencil was not.  
Without thinking, he'd let his gaze wander further down and just when he realized his mistake, his eyes came to rest on– the towel wrapped snugly around Jonathan's waist. Thank fuck the towel had been there, or Tencil might've had to confront the other reason why he kept honing in on Jonathan of all people.  
Nevertheless, his breath had caught in his throat as his eyes darted to and fro, desperately trying to pretend like he hadn't just checked him out. It seemed like Jonathan hadn't even listened to his complaints before, as he simply arched one eyebrow at Tencil's change in demeanor, before something seemed to dawn on him. His smile grew and Tencil couldn't make out if it was an actual smile or a smirk, only that it made his heart race and that he had to get out of there.

 _So you're into_ that _, huh, Pierce_ , Jonathan had said, a touch of surprised amusement in his tone of voice. It wasn't even a question so much as an affirmation of what he knew was true; what they both knew was true.  
Before he could be questioned any further, Tencil shoved him aside as he furiously stormed out of the locker-room, choosing not to think about any of the realizations he'd just had. No, that Jonathan Slade was just a moronic meathead after all; all brawn and no brain. Nothing to be attracted to. Plus, he fucking hated it when he called him _Pierce_.

 

After that... situation, Tencil had called in sick to numerous practice sessions, even though he was just itching to get back in the pool. But he couldn't risk facing Jonathan again until he was absolutely sure the guy would've forgotten all about Tencil's wandering eyes. He spent all those days at home, staring up at the ceiling where he lay in bed, certain he would die from the mere memory of it all any day now.  
Eventually, his parents had threatened to stop paying the fee for his place in the team if he didn't go back there, so in the end, he didn't have a choice but to go and face the armada of brainless jocks and their even more brainless admirers. Jonathan would've told them all about the incident in the locker-room by now, no doubt. They'd all laugh at or be disgusted with him, the coach would kick him off the team and he'd never get into the Olympics. His parents would disown him, he was sure. Not that he liked them that much anyway, but it would be so inconvenient.

But to his surprise and, for some reason, aggravation, Jonathan never acted differently towards him after that. One would think that the stupid meathead had forgotten all about their confrontation by the way he was being his usual, nonchalant and easy-going self, and none of the others seemed to care either. The only reasonable explanation for this would be that Jonathan never did tell any of the others or the coach, and for once, Tencil felt mildly grateful.  
He still refused looking Jonathan in the eyes, however, not wanting to risk turning into the flustered mess he'd become in the locker-room again. 

 

Finally, Tencil had started to put the whole thing behind him, after all, the next big competition was coming up and he wouldn't tolerate losing to that idiot again. His fighting spirit was back and he no longer avoided Jonathan's gaze; as if that moron would even remember what happened between them anymore. Like he wasn't occupied with hanging out with his hotshot buddies and his multiple, big-titted girlfriends out on that fucking yacht he'd once bragged about owning. _(I bet he's just borrowing it from his dad or something. That freeloader!)_ Of course he wouldn't remember Tencil accidentally outing himself in front of him. No, he had more _important_ things to do in his perfect little life than put that on his memory.  
Tencil supposed he should've been glad that Jonathan forgot about it, and he had been, for a while, but in the end it just served as proof of how Jonathan thought he was _oh_ -so much better and more important than him. He didn't even have time to remember things– He didn't even _care_.

The other guys had been standing at the poolside after training was over one day, talking amongst themselves about the same stupid shit they always did, and Jonathan, of course, was in the center. As Tencil got out of the pool after one last extra lap, he was just about to pass the group and give Jonathan his best evil-eye, when he noticed something different; Jonathan met his gaze.  
Tencil froze for a bit as he swore he saw Jonathan's features almost... soften a little bit. He looked almost kind in that moment. Sure, the guy was _always_ smiling about something, but it never seemed genuine the way it did now. Jonathan gave him a slight nod, not in a patronizing way, not trying to mock him. As he saw Jonathan stand there in the throng of his other jock friends, who were too occupied in their chat to even give Tencil a passing glance, he somehow knew that Jonathan hadn't forgotten the locker-room incident. For the first time since they'd first met, the stupid meathead acknowledged Tencil. _Really_ acknowledged him, without simultaneously trying to trump the blond's every effort. He never said anything, but the look in Jonathan's eyes let Tencil know that his secret was safe with him.  
This time, he was well and truly grateful. Of course he wasn't going to admit it, though, instead he just swallowed thickly before averting his gaze and finally walking down into the locker-room, leaving the jocks to themselves.

 

Things went back to normal after that, with Tencil sometimes trying to sabotage for Jonathan, who never took it seriously. Even though they didn't like each other, they still kept their silent agreement and never spoke about the incident again.  
At least not until next time they were alone in the locker-room, post training, and Jonathan offered to take Tencil's virginity, his excuse being to “ease him up” a little. After some initial caution and hissed questions of how the hell Jonathan knew he was a virgin, Tencil had taken him up on his offer and with that, it became their tradition.

***


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hate-sex happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO YEAH here's the last chapter at long last! I bet my audience of three have been on the edge of their seats, but the waiting's all over now, lemme tell ye.

Tencil didn't remember the exact moment when Jonathan became truly fed up with him and thus stopped calling him by his first name altogether. The same had happened to Tencil, but in reverse; when they were younger, he'd only addressed Jonathan by his surname, but as time went by, he'd condescendingly started using the jock's first name instead. The reason Tencil didn't like it when Jonathan called him Pierce was because, well– he didn't appreciate the idiot getting all up close and personal with him (the times where Jonathan had his dick inside him didn't count).  
The other reason was that he simply never liked his first name at all. _Pierce_ ; it sounded like some noise you made when sneezing and spitting at the same time. Plus, it was so snobby-sounding too... Granted, he'd turned into a snob more and more through the years, but only Tencil himself had the privilege to bring that up.

“Hey, Tencil. Where exactly are we going?”

“Almost the-ere”, Tencil answered in that weird sing-song voice he sometimes did to presumably validate his own confidence.  
If this was a set-up, Jonathan could take him on, so he had no reason to worry. Still, he watched Tencil's back intently for any sudden movement or flash of weapons. You could never be too sure with that guy. Unfortunately for Tencil, if he tried anything funny, he'd be up against someone with not only 70 percent more muscle mass, but someone with a black belt in karate. And that's not even all Jonathan had under his _belt_ , so to speak. Not by a long shot.  
He subconsciously clenched his fists; they were ready for whatever might come.

No attacks came, however, and the two men finally came to a stop in front of a door down some dimly lit corridor. Not another soul around... _Suspicious_.  
At the swipe of his card, Tencil opened the door with a resounding _click!_ and lead the way inside. As the door firmly closed behind them, Jonathan crossed his arms over his – even musclier than before – chest, and gave the blond a lopsided smirk.

“So what's this about all of a sudden?”

A flash of anger seemed to pass over Tencil's face, but was quickly replaced with an exaggerated pout.

“Oh, it figures you wouldn't remember.”, he spat as he strode over to the unused desk behind him, taking a seat on top. “Too busy living the high life as a _glorious_ beach-bum.”

Jonathan scoffed. “Don't tell me you're jealous of my occupation too?”

“Not at all, Jonathan”, the blond replied, “casually” checking out his nails. “Besides, I'd hardly call... _whatever_ it is you're doing, an occupation.”

Jonathan had had this conversation several times with Alfie already, so he didn't even bother fueling the fire this time. He just gave Tencil a poignant look as he waited for the blond to get to the point.  
Tencil had clearly expected some form of rebuttal, but when none came, he just huffed loudly before smiling at Jonathan and simultaneously staring daggers at him; the only technique he'd fully mastered since they last met.

“Fine then, if you won't admit to it...”

“Admit to what?” Really, Jonathan had a feeling what Tencil was getting at, but he so enjoyed getting this man all riled up, he couldn't help but play dumb a little while longer.

Tencil's jawline visibly clenched as he tried not to shout out in frustration. After all, _Jonathan_ was the underachiever this time; he didn't get picked up in a limo on his way to work, he didn't get to go to important meetings; _he_ wasn't important. Not anymore. But Tencil _was_. This mantra worked to calm the blond down a little, as it usually did.  
Instead of trying to get Jonathan to talk, he changed his tactic. What could possibly hurt a manly man like Jonathan the most? A swipe at his masculinity, of course.

“Tell me, does your brother know?”, Tencil asked him, a smirk spreading across his face, this time without a hint of anger, which confused Jonathan. Was Tencil... _sure of himself?_

“Know what?”, he questioned back, a little more impatiently than he'd like to admit.

“That you're a _fag_ , of course”, came the answer, which admittedly had Jonathan cringing inside. The way Tencil talked, the way he almost beamed with happiness as he spoke those toxic words... It was disconcerting. He knew by the way Jonathan looked at him that he'd struck a chord; how could he be anything _but_ happy?  
Jonathan recovered all too quickly, mirroring Tencil's question.

“Does your boss know _you're_ one?”

Tencil had expected to be angered by whatever the other said, but he wasn't. Jonathan was telling the truth after all, plus, he wasn't the greatest debater to begin with. This was going to be easy! Tencil just straightened his tie a little bit, as it had become mildly crinkled, and tutted at the jock. 

“Oh, Jonathan... how old-fashioned. I don't care about that shit anymore. When you're in this business, you can practically do what you want, and that includes getting some dick once in a while.” He looked up from his tie right into Jonathan's eyes as he delivered the final blow. “And guess what? _Your_ dick is one of the smallest ones I've had.”

Normally, Jonathan was too much of an easy-going guy to care about such childish insults, but coming from _Tencil_ , they were a whole other story. He'd had just about enough of that smirking face of his right now, which was why he trudged over to the blond – sitting there on the desk and smiling as if he'd finally gotten that gold medal – and shoved him down on the hard surface, pinning him to it. This was what Tencil had hoped would happen, but he hadn't expected the impact on the desk to be so hard... He could practically feel a bruise forming already, and he yelped out in pained surprise despite himself.

Jonathan had an almost primal look in his eyes as he stared down at him, now bearing a smirk of his own as he spoke:

“Really? Then I guess it's time I give you a trip down memory lane.”

Tencil just grimaced. “What at fucking corny thing to say.”

***

He'd lied about Jonathan's dick-size of course. The jock had everything else going for him, so why wouldn't he be well-endowed too? _It fucking figures_. Tencil had wanted to get a reaction out of him though, since the jock was so infuriatingly mellow all the time, and a reaction was what he got. A hell of a reaction too; Jonathan had always been (sort of) gentle with him in the past, but any semblance of care was long gone this time around. Since Tencil did plan this somewhat, there was a tube of lube in one of the drawers, but Jonathan barely used any of it; just a little smidgen of the liquid on his index finger, a following unceremonious preparation, and Tencil was good to go, as far as Jonathan was concerned.

“Still one of the smallest cocks you've had?”, he remarked again, looking over Tencil's face as he buried himself deep inside him. Despite what he might claim, the comment about his dick-size had actually bothered Jonathan. Quite a lot too, since again; he wasn't used to being met with the amount of hostility Tencil presented. That hostility brought something different out in Jonathan as well, something that only the blond, gasping man underneath him was privy to. It wasn't a side he was proud of, no, but he'd chosen to see it as his primal side by now. Everyone has a primal side where they get completely controlled by instinct... don't they? That's essentially the only thing he remembered from the biology lessons... or was it sex-ed?

“N-no, I changed my mind”, Tencil spoke through gritted teeth. “It's _the_ smallest.”

Despite him successfully managing to control his facial expressions thus far, Tencil couldn't stop the tiny cry slipping out his mouth as Jonathan immediately started grinding into him, obviously egged on by Tencil's unsatisfactory answer. It was a good thing that he'd actually prepped himself earlier on in the day before setting out on his “mission”, or their current sex-act would've hurt a lot more, that was for sure. Almost as much as that time where he'd gone to a prostitute who happened to have a liking towards outlandish sex toys, which he'd used on Tencil to his heart's content all throughout the night. Tencil had been sore for literal weeks afterward; it got so bad that his boss had almost put him on sick-leave. ( _Almost_. The boss was too cheap of a bastard to actually let it happen).

Jonathan wasted no time at all getting into it (in more ways than one); it didn't even take him a minute to set a ruthless pace, fucking Tencil into not only the desk, but into the next century as well. At least, that was what he aimed for, as he always had.  
Jonathan's eyes were practically clouded over he was so into it, and he realized that this was just what he needed; what he'd possibly even longed for for the past few years. He'd gotten bothered by Tencil calling him a “fag”, yes, but the truth was that Tencil was the only man that Jonathan had ever been intimate with. He really wasn't gay, but something about Tencil made an otherwise completely dormant side of Jonathan awaken...  
At first, Tencil's apparent attraction to him had only made him amused (and yes, even a bit flattered), but for some reason, that scrawny kid had grown on him, and soon, Jonathan had woken up to find that something else had also grown on him during the night; a lust born from the forbidden images his brain had conjured up of him and Tencil going at it post-practice. In a way, Tencil had finally beaten him somewhat, although not in the way he'd intended. Getting a man aroused hardly earned you any medals. 

The desk moved further towards the wall with each thrust of Jonathan's hips until it loudly slammed against it, making Tencil hit his head in the process.  
Jonathan was sweaty already, and their breaths mingled together in the small room, making it hotter and hotter by the minute. Tencil was sweaty too, and out of breath, but he didn't care about that. Instead, his hands were futilely grappling at Jonathan's ugly palm-printed shirt in an attempt to get it off. But he couldn't do it; couldn't even think straight, so how was he supposed to be in control of his motorics?  
His pants had been all but ripped off earlier and his knees were now perched atop Jonathan's bulging shoulders, almost bending Tencil in half each time he thrust forward. Oh but he didn't mind; he'd always been a bit of a masochist, he supposed, but he needed to _see_ Jonathan– needed to see his muscles at work, like he had back when they were teens during swimming practice. Jonathan's goddamned muscles had been the start of all this awkward sexual tension, so the _least_ that dumb meathead could do was let him see–

As if by divine intervention, Jonathan actually took off his shirt right then, still moving his hips of course, but also managing to undress his upper half without a hitch. Tencil looked up at him through hooded eyes and fucking _hell_ was it actually possible for a human being to have an _eight_ -pack? This was frankly ridiculous and hadn't he known any better, Tencil would've brought up his grievances right then. However, as luck would have it, Jonathan happened to hit just the right spot before Tencil could so much as say a word. For a moment or two, he wasn't angry anymore; couldn't even think of a reason why he'd be angry at the handsome, buff devil on top of him. But Jonathan knew Tencil would be back to his old, snarling self faster than Alfie had thrown up their old auntie's shish-kebab that one time.  
Jonathan had seen it happen time and time again, after all. No matter what situation Tencil found himself in, his way of regaining control was to lash out for any conceivable reason, so Jonathan was expecting that to happen any minute now. Perhaps, once Tencil had gotten out of the haze, he'd get mad and punch Jonathan for making him “drop his guard” or whatever excuse he came up with this time. Of course, Tencil's punches barely hurt to begin with, so he'd have to be lucky to even give Jonathan a black eye in the state he was currently in. 

Jonathan snickered a bit to himself as he remembered the “good old days” when he'd actually pretended to be hurt by a rage-fueled punch Tencil had delivered to him for some reason. It had turned into an attempt to make the blond feel a bit better about himself but as soon as Tencil caught on to Jonathan's over-exaggerated rolling on the floor while yowling in pain, Jonathan (and the rest of the jocks) had bared witness to the most epic freakout they'd ever seen Tencil have, and though Jonathan did feel a twinge of guilt for making a fool out of Tencil, that was soon forgotten (by everyone except Tencil, that is). After all, it was kind of hilarious how easily triggered that guy was and how despite this, he never stopped trying. Even after being constantly beaten by Jonathan in practically everything he challenged him to, there was no stopping Tencil. If nothing else, that was something to be admired about him.

Of course, it'd be stupid of Jonathan to drop his guard because come to think of it, him and Tencil hadn't met for at least 8 years; not fought each other for more more than 10... Who knows, maybe Tencil was hiding a ripped beach body under that fancy, jet-black suit? Only one way to find out.  
Jonathan unbuttoning his undershirt seemed to rouse the blond from his blissed-out state, his hands shooting up to grab the jock's wrists in (what he hoped was) an iron-tight grip.

“H-hey... Wha– what're you...? Stop that!”

But it was too late. Tencil could only gasp and grit his teeth in rage-fueled embarrassment as his upper body was revealed for the world to see, and Lord was it a sight to... behold?

“Huh. Looks like I overestimated you, Tencil”, Jonathan sighed while feeling the blond's chest up. “How disappointing.”

Tencil's body structure had barely changed at all, not even after 10+ years. While Jonathan's muscles had grown in sheer mass from incessant work-out sessions (that really were basic work-out sessions for every guy on their team) alone, Tencil's muscles had just gotten kind of sinewy. Hell, Jonathan was even sure that Tencil used to be more muscly as a _teen_ , and if that wasn't sad, then their old auntie's shish-kebab was Alfie's favorite food.

Tencil saw red – for the first time in at least 10 minutes – at the jock's words, and tried to ignore those broad, steady hands on his chest as he began throwing haphazard punches in Jonathan's general direction, hoping that (for once) he might do some serious damage. Nobody insulted his physique and got away with it, especially not if the offender's name was Jonathan Slade.

Said offender had gotten somewhat swept away by getting a look at Tencil's body after so long that he found himself actually considering leaning down to give the blond a kiss. _(hey, maybe that would calm him down?)_  
They'd been on-and-off fuckbuddies since they were 17 and never once had they kissed each other. For one, Tencil didn't want to kiss a stupid idiot, and Jonathan didn't want to kiss another guy; that's where he drew the line, supposedly. But right now, looking down at Tencil's flustered, enraged face, Jonathan thought the could make an exception, just this once. That was until one of Tencil's fists came crashing into his cheek and momentarily stunned the jock as his sanity was knocked back into him. He felt some blood trickle from his now split lip as he remembered this was Pierce Tencil he'd just attempted to kiss... _Alright, maybe not_.  
Luckily, he was used to taking much harder punches than this measly one, but he had to admit that, coming from Tencil, this was impressive.

“Well then.”, he murmured while absentmindedly wiping the blood from his chin.

Tencil just shrieked at him, like a small and cornered dog might. “What the fuck did you think was gonna happen, you– You... _F-fuck_ you!”

Jonathan's dick must've grown impossibly harder from what he'd just heard; Tencil's facade slipping during sex. Try as he might, he didn't think it had ever happened before... Truly, Tencil just kinda giving up midway through one of his infamous tirades, his words slurring as he succumbed to his carnal instincts, was something the common man rarely bared witness to. 

Jonathan had probably hit the good spot again, considering how Tencil practically melted into a trembling puddle of mixed emotions, not sure whether he should moan out in ecstasy or remain stoic in front of the smirking jock between his legs. He _was_ gonna give it one more go before Jonathan's strong hands returned to knead into his chest and no no no no this wasn't fair– this was cheating if he had ever seen it! Like all those times before, it just felt too damn good, and when he felt the familiar, pressuring heat growing inside of him as Jonathan resumed fucking him, Tencil had no choice but to admit defeat once again.  
While Jonathan kept going at him like a fucking horse, Tencil summoned what was left of his powers in order to sling his arms around Jonathan's neck, giving him the opportunity to bite into the jock's shoulder. It might not hurt him, but Tencil just wanted to leave some kind of mark on the man – and hey, hopefully this would at least give him a bruise.

“Yeah, you love it”, Jonathan grunted in his ear, and Tencil swore he could hear the stupid grin in his stupid voice. He groaned needily into Jonathan's shoulder in response. But the man was right; Tencil did love it, not that that would stop him from complaining afterwards. For now, though, he was content to let this handsome, muscular man piledrive himself into him; one broad hand still massaging his chest while the other was situated on the small of Tencil's back, keeping him from falling backwards. The blond would've liked to come up with a witty retort of some kind, but by now, Jonathan's continued assault on his prostate didn't leave room for much more than incoherent moans and blabberings to come out of his mouth. For the first time in a lot of full moons, they were both pretty content with the outcome of this “secret” meeting.

***

After their tryst, they returned to the office where they'd left Alfie to his own devices, finding said man attempting to chat up one of the boss' secretaries [key word: _attempting_ ]. At most, the woman found him amusing more than anything, and as she passed Jonathan and Tencil in the doorway, Alfie hung his head and sighed in defeat.

“Did you have to come running? Things were just getting good.”, he joked in an effort to mask his continuously hurt pride.

Jonathan rolled his eyes at his brother's so-called “flirting” and walked over to see what progress he'd made on that junky computer. There was a certain kind of glow about Jonathan all of a sudden, that Alfie noticed, of course.

“What's up with you? That happy to witness your poor little brother's failures, are you?”

“Nah, it's something you wouldn't understand”, Jonathan answered while grinning to himself like a schoolboy.

“Oh yeah? We both know I'm the brain in this operation... I understand everyth– ”, remarked Alfie, before remembering Tencil was also there. “Hey, by the way man, I never got that Slurpee, or a Mocha latte for that matter.”

Jonathan snorted at that, Alfie kept asking him what was so funny, and Tencil made a grimace as he felt Jonathan's... _seed_ run down his leg. That fucker had come inside him, knowing full well how it would ruin his suit.  
Tencil gave the brothers a “smile” too big for his face, like the death grin of a skull, before backing out of the room:

“A Slurpee and Mocha latte, _coming right up_ ”, he sang, grinding his teeth in his attempt to remain civil. He didn't have to get along with them for too long... Just a few more days maybe, before the company's use for them expired. _You won't be laughing for much longer, Jonathan. I'll get you for this!_ He had to admit though; this was the best he'd ever been fucked, and that was what Tencil focused on as he wobbled his way into the cafeteria. He might just pour Alfie's requested beverages together in an ungodly mix, though; just out of spite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so bad at writing sex, you guys, lmao- But I hope it managed to produce at least one boner. Then my work shall be done...
> 
> Just like this fic is now; done! There was a massive break in-between chapters, I know, but that's mostly because of personal stuff and that I wasn't really in a writing-mood for a while. Better late than never though, lord knows I still have a ton of unfinished old fics lying around so I'm glad this didn't become one of them. Honestly it was really fun writing this and I hope whoever reaches this obscure corner of the interwebz enjoys it as well. <3


End file.
